


Relief

by Galadriel



Category: 24 (TV)
Genre: Blood, Bondage, Genital Torture, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Torture, Vignette, Yuletide, challenge:Yuletide 2008
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-25
Updated: 2008-12-25
Packaged: 2017-12-22 12:11:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/913068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galadriel/pseuds/Galadriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack's nightmares were never very far away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Relief

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Savageseraph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savageseraph/gifts).



> A small Yuletide Treat for Savageseraph, who wanted to know, among other things, "what sorts of terribly twisted dreams Jack might have about his nemeses." Originally uploaded **[here](http://yuletidetreasure.org/archive/84/relief.html)**.

Jack's body twitched and jerked like a puppet with broken strings, the current snapping through him, making his muscles jump. He sagged as Marwan moved the wand away, his arms taking the bulk of his weight, his legs trembling so badly that he couldn't will his knees to lock. The cuffs at his wrists bit into his flesh, and he was sure that if he could make his head move, roll it back and look up, he'd see the trails of blood he could already feel trickling down the insides of his arms.

Yet as his eyes were swollen almost entirely shut, his ability to see much was already compromised. The warehouse was a blur of shadow and colour, men outlined in halos that never quite went away. He knew which one was Marwan -- the small arc of blue at the end of the rod in his hand gave him away cold -- but the rest were lost to dimness.

Someone threw another bucket of cold water across his back; it revived him enough to help him regain his feet, if only for a moment. He was beyond tired, all sense of time lost long ago, long before they'd cut his clothes from him and begun the beatings.

Confused by crackling nerves, a snarl of crossed wires, his cock curved up against his abdomen, the only part of him still able to stand straight. He heard Marwan chuckle, asking once more where the football was, yet giving him no time to answer before that blue arc came close to his cockhead.

 

His scream rang in his ears as he jerked, his eyes blinking open, heart pounding in his throat.

"Shhh. Shhh, Jack, it's ok. You're here. Here with me." Tony's fingers slipped through his hair, trailed down his cheek. Jack's arms were free, the bed under his body solid, the walls no longer closing in. The room was warm, he was dry and safe, tucked close to his lover's side, no bruises or burns on his body, all his teeth still in his head.

He took a breath, slightly amazed that his chest still functioned, not quite free of the worst of the nightmare. But Tony's hands were there to soothe him, his voice ready to settle frayed nerves. He could be sure that Tony would never abuse him, never raise a hand against him, never risk triggering a whole host of memories that'd drop him straight down to the depths of addiction all over again. He knew he'd never wake to icy torments, hogtied and helpless, never feel whip to back or current to flesh, not on Tony's watch.

But as Tony drew him closer, curled around him to protect him even as he slumbered, one thing kept niggling at Jack, keeping him far removed from sleep.

If what he wanted was safety -- kind hands and careful kisses -- why did every twisted, tortured dream leave him achingly hard and seeking relief?


End file.
